1613.

duders,
i've been so 'busy',
i missed the fact that i've written over 1600 entries.
one thousand six hundred and thirteen,
including this one.
wow.
that's a pretty big dumb number,
especially for the daily doings of a ghetto philosopher
and introspective extrovert/hermit.
y'know,
when it comes down to it,
i kind of cancel myself out.
i'm not sayin', i'm just sayin'.
but,
i've got some good news for you ninjas;
that's not ALL i do.
arthur-making?
yuuuup.
check the teleport:

it needs so much.
like, so many more lines, and so much more sh!t
to make it go to eleven.
it doesn't even have an XI in it, yet.
that needs fixin', friends.
and what goes in those top circles?
i don't know that either.
i've now got a stack of half-started, stalled-out
projects that beg for completion, complication,
participation and activation.
and just look at this little guy:

yeah!
spitting hot fire, for your face!!
neighbors,
if there aren't acorns, i'm not interested.
***********
i wonder if these bottled-up messages to the world
make it past the duders i know,
and flow off into the atmosphere to summon
spirits and memories of worth, wood, and goodness
out to the ninjas i don't?
one thousand six hundred largely ignored love letters
sent with crossed hearts and crossed fingers to the idea
that a better fate than death awaits us anywhere.
it's all really happening.
that's no joke.
i mostly just have this to keep me company:

hard mutha-F*ing styles, y'all.
low-resolution spirit animal sh!t.
some people get a bear, or a fox, or whatever.
i get a stinky, retarded dog.
i assume nobody is that surprised?
yeah;
never quiet, never soft.....